This is the end. It's over. The Hugo awards were announced this past Saturday, and the votes are in. It's done.
Wow. Who knew you could carry a joke this far?
There are some more SWATting incidents I typed up, mainly because one person was ready-made, and one person made an offhand comment that I felt compelled to follow up on. I would have SWATted John C. Wright earlier, but between the problem of trying to SWAT a brain in a jar, and having never read him, I had nothing to go on until I interviewed him for the show.
Now, a word on Vox Day / Theodore Beale. He's ... a nerd.
I saw him speak during a webinar giving commentary on the Hugos. A woman I watched with? Called him cuddly. He supports the Wrights' superversive fiction movement, and ....
I was promised Darth Vader, damnit! I got Dark Helmet!
Funny thing, Vox pretty much called the results from the other day as the Webinar started. Then again, he almost sounded surprised about how vicious they were against the Sad Puppy nominees.
Anyway, and now, for the final time ....
UNLEASH THE PUPPIES.
[SWAT kicks door in, swarms house. In the front den is John C. Wright, the living brain in a jar, pounding out a novel using telekinesis.]
[JCW keeps typing] Can I help you gentlemen? You could have knocked you know, it would have been possible that I would have even invited you in and explained the situation; though I had expected it much much sooner than this.
[SWAT team looks confused. SWAT #1 looks at JCW.] We had reports of --
[JCW] --a deranged man waving a gun around, I know; I had figured; after all, it was inevitable, giving the current climate in which we reside. After the first few threats to my livelihood, I've managed to become accustomed to this level of stupidity and hostility that has been thrust upon me by the reprobates at Tor Books and the Morlocks who follow them. We will not even discuss the loathsome comments of one Irene Gallo. Just because I dared to be unapologetically Catholic; I'm becoming tired of this general destructive nature of the luecrottas. Somehow, I am a racist, though Catholicism is not a racial characteristic but a spiritual one, and sainthood is not an inherited characteristic.
[SWAT #1] Well, um, sir --?
[JCW] Yes, I'm a sir. I may be a brain, but I'm not gender-neutral.
[SWAT #1] We should probably leave now. Obviously, someone made a mistake.
[JCW] By all means, leave. But there was no mistake. After all, look up the imbecility of the situation online, you'll learn that this was quite deliberate. Just ignore anything that attaches me to GamerGate -- the only gamer who has read my work is one Daddy Warpig. Were I a pagan, I'm certain that I would erect a suitable shrine to Daddy Warpig, a stepped pyramid rising from the steaming jungles of Mexico, adorned with larger-than-life marble statues of raging boars coated with hammered gold, on which to sacrifice captive foes, and offer their still beating hearts to his glory! AH hahahahahahaha!
[SWAT team looks decidedly uncomfortable.]
[JCW] Of course, I'm joking. It is almost depressing that I am required to say that to be understood.
[SWAT] Goodbyem sir.
[JCW] Good day, all.
[JCW continues to pound out his novel, starring Vatican ninjas, Aslan in powered armor, fighting Kaiju demons]
[SWAT opens door. It was unlocked. They charge in. SWAT leader accidentally kicks a small cat. Cat seems to be completely unharmed as it lands on its feet with a heavy thud, as though it was a heavier animal. SWAT sweeps and clears the home. They regroup in the living room.]
[SWAT #1] Did dispatch give us the wrong address?
[SWAT #2] I don't think so.
[SWAT #1 squints at a sign on the wall] What's that? "Don't feed the kitty-dragon"? What the hell is a that? Sounds like something a kid would make up.
[Cat pads it way to center of room, and open its mouth wide, as though it's yawning, and then breathes fire, singing the nearest SWAT members.]
[SWAT #1] RUN!!!!
I hate to break it to you, but the rest of this post has been moved to a different location. Where, you might ask?